


The might of an apple pie

by Duchesse_Chonps



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Bad English, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Minor Character Death, OC centric, POV Second Person, PWP, and porn too !, except there is a plot, the pie won't save him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:47:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22616635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Duchesse_Chonps/pseuds/Duchesse_Chonps
Summary: La Volpe definitely likes apple pies. And you.For those who are only here for my first try at smut, it is at chapter 5.
Relationships: La Volpe/OC
Kudos: 6





	1. 1_How you lost the Captain

That’s it. He lost it. The Chief lost it. He now spends the majority of his time in the cells, “interrogating” an ever growing number of prisoners to make them confess ridiculous crimes, in you opinion. Thankfully, their stay are never a long one, two days at most, and he never got physical with them but… No, this isn’t him, and this isn’t acceptable. Such treatment, for literacy crime ? This isn’t even a thing, it isn’t recorded anywhere, and you are well placed to know that. After all, you were the one who rewrote the law code copy since this unfortunate incident with Frederico, the library window and that… Gallant company. You haven’t complained much that time, you were paid quite well for it, and it kept you inside. Far from Him. Not that would have truly stopped Him. But it did give you the time necessary to process everything. Ah, better not to think about this now.

You are a guard. You are someone who is used to stupid stuff, stupid people, and stupid peoples doing stupid stuff. You have also regularly gross stuff, grosser people, and gross stuff on gross people. Sometimes everything at once. Sheer madness however… Crazed devotion, brutal fanaticism, it was what ruled your city now, under the appearance of a tall, black clad priest. Savonarola wasn’t the official ruler of Firenze, but since he had the Captain and several others influential men under his thumb, and by extension their own follower, he was the leader de facto.

You were away that day, when that priest was brought by Marcelo. Marcelo, ever talking Marcelo, who was eerily silent. It was what pushed the Captain to received personally the stranger without even doing a basic research. And once the door closed, nobody left the room. They did not leave at lunch. They did not leave when the bell announced shift change. Fransceco told you that the priest left before supper, and the Chief only the day after, with an odd expression. Nobody dared step in, between the Captain dislike of interruptions and Marcelo, guarding sinisterly the hallway to the office, silently discouraging anyone to come. Maybe someone should have entered. Pushed Marcelo out of the way, breaking uninvited, terminating whatever wicked machination the priest casted. But no one dared. And the Chief was lost.   
It was gradual. Insidious, almost imperceptible at the beginning. Few truly knew him, he kept his private life and most of his thoughts to himself. But they were routines. Habits. At first, he kept them. He always supervised shift changes, listening to those finishing their day and instructing the others. He stopped that. He started to let his Second doing it for him, more and more, until he never came again. Then he dismissed him. This was a huge blow for the guards, because the Second was almost as revered as the Chief. Moral started to degrade. People began to talk. And Marcelo died.   
It wasn’t entirely unexpected, he wasn’t himself anymore without his incessant chatting. But since no dottore managed to find out what happened to him (except one who gave an eery warning), and that he was a man in good shape and at his peak, nobody knew what to do with him. You decided to watch him like an hawk, and some of your colleagues did the same. But in the end, it was no illness that claimed him. It was the Captain. He was found covered with Marcello blood. He claimed Marcelo attacked him. Nobody questioned the Chief. Not the ones who discovered them. Not the ones who moved the body, nor the ones who warned the poor family. Neither when funds were raised for the funeral, neither the family during said funeral. And not you. Oh, you had doubts, more than that. But you didn’t dare. Not when you found both of them, as you ignored the context. Not when he pitched half his salary. Especially not during the ceremony. And not now, because you were terrified. The talks were forcefully silenced, the people randomly imprisoned. All under the orders of the priest. 

He was now surrounded by a disgruntled noble who you personally disliked, that doctor who gave the cryptic advice, and some others. Including the Chief. Aleatory searches were performed, particularly in the brothel who finally closed to prevent the guards to enter and trash the place during their searches. Without this important source of entertainment, the fear increased. The searches now were done to private houses, even of known lawful citizens. After a time, it extended to schools. At that point, the appointed guards brought back stuff, tools and books that one used to...please themselves on lonely nights. But they didn’t stop here. They took more and more books, regardless of the content. The excuses were getting more and more ridiculous : culinary books encouraged gluttony, history tomes carried the tales of wars so wrath… Citizens started to hide their written contents too, especially after the Holy Bible was seized from a church. The head priest came, furious, to demand it back, and have a meeting the Captain. Words never said if he ever get back the Bible, but he did met with the Chief, in the remote cell where he was promptly thrown. Savonarola joined them, and the previously irate priest left without a fuss. He was now found on top of a tower, preaching for the masses below. Only God knew how he managed to be heard from here.

That how and when you knew the Chief was lost. Now came the part where you feared you were going to lose it, too.


	2. How you nearly got lost

You felt a particular cold and heavy sensation dropping in your stomach when this new displeasing guy came smirking to you. The sensation amplified when he told you the Captain expected you in his office. This right after Savonarola entered the building. You gulped your last piece of bread and wordlessly left. Running away was useless, you quickly decided. Even if you managed to escape the compound (nearly impossible), you couldn’t hide forever (truly impossible), and you didn’t want to leave this city after you finally settled somewhere nice. Savonarola and his dreadful ways will not make you flee. And the risk of being captured was too high. You wanted to face whatever Savonarola wielded unbounded. 

The walk to the Chief was longer now that he moved his office in the basement, at the end of a long and empty corridor, beneath the cells. Given their current overpopulation, nobody would hear you scream. Your trained ear still caught quiet sounds and discreet footsteps on the top of the stairs behind you. You straightened yourself. Whatever will happened, will happened. You politely knocked, ending the dialogue you heard in the closed room. 

“Enter !”

The Captain hasn’t lost his booming voice at least. You did as told, closing swiftly the door and stood at attention. 

“Captain – you bowed a little then turned to Savonarola – Father. We haven’t the chance to meet yet, I hope you enjoyed you stay in our beautiful city.”

Courteous pleasantries, well done and timed, never hurt anyone. The Chief regularly praised you for you ability to deescalate a situation by dialog. The priest seemed to appreciate it, as his usually crazed expression seemed to decrease a bit. You two shook hands under the watchful eyes of the Captain. Was that a knife in his hand ? You concentrated again on the man before you, who was now analyzing you. He finally seemed to reach a conclusion, and stepped toward the desk, caressing idly a bag on top of it. 

“Tell me, my son, do you know why you are here ?”

You paused. Whatever was it, has begun. 

“No, you truthfully answered.”

You discreetly looked toward the third party, who had put the knife away in favor of his sword. He was slowly coming in range. He is far, far more skilled in combat that you would ever hope to be. And in a closed space like this, your only way of survival was to escape, toward the other guards who were surely still waiting. 

“My son, he said while he sat in your Chief’s chair, I've been told by trusted sources that you lacked faith.”

So it was what he was after. Fanatic. Your were the first to say you fighting style could be improved, but you rarely if ever needed it. You always tried, and nearly always diffused the situations. The scarce times you weren’t succeeding, well, guards patrolled in group for a reason. There was a problem thought. The Chief knew that very well, as he himself saw you in action a couple of times. He will not allow you to sweet-talk the mad priest with mystic mind control powers. Well, that’s too bad. 

“Father, I… Yes. This is true. I… I am scared.”

The Captain stilled. He obviously wasn’t expecting this. Savonarola was glued to your words. 

“I – you gulped – I am scared, of everything that is going on. Chief, you, you changed a lot, and Marcelo… I may, no, I have been to the brothel more that usual lately, I just wanted to forget a bit. I know I shouldn’t have, but everything is just going to fast, some great guys left and the new crew is, well, new, and… It’s a lot. In a short time. I haven’t realized I missed church that much.”

It was a gamble, but it was the sole idea you got. Chief was bewitched (well more than usual), and Savonarola was reflecting. He tensed, then released the bag. He rose from the chair and came toward you. The Captain retreated to his side, he was no longer creeping next to you, so you tentatively named it a victory. 

“My child, fear no more. It is easy for a man to sway away from the flock especially under such circumstances. Be reassured, we will guide you back. My good friend is instructing inside a tower, have you seen it ?”  
“Yes, but I never went inside.”  
“It is a work of art, although perfection can only be achieved by God.”  
“Of course Father, but one must always strive it. Since you mentioned it, I will visit it tonight.”  
“No, my son. You will visit it now. It is easy to be lost, but arduous to be found again. The process must start immediately.”  
You cast a last look at your silent Captain. He haven’t reacted once to the crazed affirmations. You nodded.  
“Go now, my child.”  
You left without a look back. There was nothing good left here anymore.


	3. How you lost an apple pie

The church was as sad as its priest. You remembered him as a jovial and fat man, he was now skinny and his mumbling were barely understandable, except when he was screaming from the top of the tower. Maybe it was because he felt closer to God or something ?   
Your schedule has been drastically shortened, to allow you to go to church as much as possible. You’ve been improving, according to Savonarola, but it was never enough. If the situation wasn’t as dire, you would be tempted to throw back “only God can be perfect”. You tried once to ask more work time to the Captain, which lead to an uncomfortable meeting with him in his office. You manage to save your skin and your mind by explaining you wished to help your city more.   
“How can you save anyone if you are lost yourself ?”

You dutifully returned to the depressing church afterward and stayed longer, the spies following reporting with no doubt this change. They had also reported the change you implemented while going to and from the church, but nobody thought much of it. You never did tell anyone what happened inside the house you were currently resting against. You passed each time next to it, hoping he would reappear. You finally decided to quietly call him, actually praying God this time to have an answer. God did not answer, but he did.   
“Well met.”  
His sly voice startled you. You haven’t truly expected him, even though you desperately needed his support and whatever means he had in his deep sleeves.   
“Well met, you stuttered. Can we move somewhere else ?”  
A quiet laugh answered you. He has seen your stalkers already. 

This man was even more dangerous than Savonarola. Without his mind-control tricks, the latter was merely another religious zealot, easily disposed of. Not him. His supposed powers and immortality were the fruit of intense and continuous training, and well handled rumors. His magnetic charisma made him a uncontested leader in the underworld, and he was a recurrent subject of conversation in all circles. No burglary could be done without his approval, if not his direct supervision. You caught a glimpse of him sometimes, dancing on rooftops, because there was no way this was walking. He moved like the Assassin – yes, you had the luck to saw him too. More the luck not to die. 

But when you met the former inside the empty house, it wasn’t thieving or heist that came first to your mind. Well, the “oh shit this is how I die” was the first, especially when he dropped so elegantly from the wooden beam and calmly approached you, a gleaming dagger in hand. No, it was the second thing you thought which was unexpected. Somehow, your frightened and soaked wet self could not concentrate on anything else than his clothes. How could he wear those mustard garbs and still be menacing ?  
You only realized you actually said that when La Volpe stopped dead in his track. You could feel him stare you intently, before taking a step back.   
“My, this is a first.”  
Uncomfortable silence reigned inside the building in construction, only interrupted by the torrential rains that you, and him you suspected, wanted to escape by coming here. An horrible thought suddenly crept in your fearful mind. What if he wasn’t alone ? With this weather and the dim light, a skilled thief could easily conceal his presence and come close. You foolishly unsheathed your sword and left the Master Thief out of your vision for a moment, searching for others potential attackers. Forgetting that La Volpe was enough to defeat you. You flatly ended on you back, blade out of your reach, his dagger digging lazily against your wet neck and the weight of a trained killer on your waist. You ceased all movements, trying to at least catch his eyes beneath that dark hood of his. You only saw his toothy smile. 

“There is only us here. Don’t I suffice you ?”

This ridiculous question, and the fact that he read you so easily made you speechless. But only for a moment.

“Actually, you are quite too much for me. I’d rather have some of my good friends with me, to show you our proper appreciation.”

“No, I don’t think so. You must know, I am very picky with who I spend my time, and I am most certain your friends wont reach my standards.”

“How can you say this when you haven’t meet them ?”

“Oh, and you started so well.”

The dagger pressed in your flesh, nearly piercing it as he lowered his mouth to your left hear.

“I know much more about this city than you could even imagine.”

Beneath this dark hood and sly smile, you saw your end.

“Yet, he continued, I somehow missed you.”

You did not dare answer this. The uncomfortable silence of earlier came back with a vengeance, him waiting for something that wasn’t coming, and you waiting him to do something, anything. The rain hitting dramatically the roof did not help, until your empty stomach reminded its existence. It got you the Fox surprise, and an idea. He lust have read that too, because you felt more than saw him tense. 

“Well, my friend, why shouldn’t we continue this conversation around some sweets ? Eating and talking make an excellent pair, don’t you think ?”

“A wonderful idea, friend, he answered back, but I am afraid I do not have any food worth to be called sweet.”

“It is thankful that I am here then, for I am carrying a whole apple pie. Would you be so king to help me ? It’s in this bag, right to your leg.”

Without moving the knife and his attention an inch, he opened the wet bag. A pleasant smell spread in the room. 

“Hum. It does smell delicious, he granted.”

“Of course. Why don’t you take a bite ?”

You realized your mishap after the fact. What if he took it as a poison tentative ?

“No, you should try first. It is you after all who brought it, it would be rude of me to start.”

“Yes, forgive me. I believe I need to relearn some manners.”

“I am afraid this is one of the domains I am merely good at. There, open your mouth.”

And that’s how La Volpe fed you apple pie. You had encountered many puzzling events in your life, but this one took the cake. The pie did calm your nerves a bit, and you watched the Fox wait for any sign of poison. 

“I rarely saw such a fine pie. Please tell, where can I find the baker ? I’d have to pay him a visit.”

“Hu, well, thank you. You have him beneath you.”

He stilled again, and, after an ominous stare, he lowered the dagger from your neck. 

“You truly are full of surprises.”

This was the end of the pie destined to your Captain birthday. You strongly suspected he finished it specifically after hearing its purpose. Thankfully for you, you managed to explain to your Chief that you didn’t dare bring a perishable good under such weather. Your reputation was safe, as well as your life. Watching the thief cut the pie with the knife he initially intended to cut your neck with was a surreal experience. He did not try to end you afterward and simply vanished. You never saw him again, thought you could swear you saw a flash of mustard in dark corners. You knew better than to investigate, at least pieless. For a thief, La Volpe had some values. You counted on those supposed values you came back to the house when the Savonarola debacle started, and met him again.

An unmistakable crashing sound stopped your daydream. The tiles of the house in question started to fall down. Hard. You could see dust, and heard coughing. A strong hand gripped you, and a fit body trapped you against a wall, dagger again on your throat. Some things don’t seem to change. 

“Well met, friend.”

A familiar smile flashed before you.

“Well met. I am quite busy, so be quick, urged La Volpe.”

“Please help me. The Captain lost it because of this mad priest, and more are falling to him too. I was lucky to escape him.”

His grip became more forceful, and you finally felt the sting of his dagger. 

“You’ve been alone with Savonarola ?”

“Yes.”

Lying to him was useless. Actually, saying the truth was better. If even La Volpe acknowledged Savonarola means, then he must have an idea of how they work, maybe even how to counter them. And check if you weren’t submitted to them somehow. You knew it won’t certainly come free, but your Chief and comrades were worth it. Remained the problem of convincing the Fox to help. In a swipe of his hand, he tossed you inside a nearby house, where waiting thieves subdued you. 

“Restrain him, he ordered, make sure no one find him. He must remain alive.”

Your captors nodded and stripped you of your weapons. La Volpe shot you a last unreadable look, and left.


	4. Chapter 4

Days. Days must have passed. You were well cared for, coming from seasoned thieves like them, but the captivity and the silence were wearing you. Finally, the third came down the cave you were kept. You stayed sit, waiting for La Volpe to follow. Except it wasn’t him. It was the Assassin, Ezio Auditore. Fear raced through your veins, but you disregarded any moves. You had as much chances to defeat him than the Fox. You awaited whatever thing the Assassin searched with his golden eyes. Until they stopped to be golden. You jumped from your seat, only to be forcefully pushed down.   
“Now, my friend. You may soon leave, but the time isn’t here yet.”  
How did he get behind you ? He can really teleport ! In your astonishment, you nearly missed the small nod of the Assassin, and he turned up the stairs in a flash of robes. The Master Thief hand left your shoulder.  
“You may leave now. I hope your stay went well.”  
“Quite, thought I found my respectable hosts a bit silent. I missed our conversations.”  
“You flatter me. Please, the exit is just at the right. We may talk later, if you truly wish to.”  
At the heavy meaning of his last words, you faced him, only to find a naked wall. He teleported again. 

You came out to a free city. The Assassin and his allies have worked hard, and all the oppressors were slain. You could only stand before the mass grave were the Captain was buried. Weeping, you keeled and ended bawling openly. When you arrived in Firenze, he was one of the first to help you, and assisted you the first years, even providing you your post. Seeing him now, dead dishonorably… You have failed him. Guilt crept and rose, as your tears. Nor the curious passerby or the workers even tried to comfort you. You merely notice their hastily retreat with the end of judgmental chatting and hurried walks. You definitely focused on your surroundings when you heard a familiar sound of capes behind you.   
“He was a good man, said curtly the Assassin.”  
You swept your dried tears, still facing the nameless grave.  
“Then why did you killed him?”  
“I had no other choices.”  
You suddenly rose to your feet, ready to do anything. His blade stopped you.  
“There is always a choice, you spat. He could have been saved.”  
“And he was. He was corrupted, by something Savonarola did not understand. Not one, even I, could undo the effects. It was the only way. I am sorry.”  
You listened. You heard him. But you just couldn’t understand. You just couldn’t. You turned a last time to the grave, and quietly left the cemetery.

Returning to the barracks was a bad idea. You couldn’t explain where you were, so you were branded as a coward and a traitor. You were sent away, permanently. Slowly, you made your way to your home and closed the door. 

A lot of time passed. You saw the days come and go, some people degrade your house, the endless flow down the street. You finally decided to get out once the hunger settled in. You would not go like that. You went to you favorite shop, only to find a service colder than the Arno in the winter. You left quietly, furious glares on your back. This was, in the end, a blessing in disguise ; as when you arrived to your home, you found four young men before the house, ready to trash it.   
“Get out, you said tiredly. I don’t want to fight you.”  
You disregarded their verbal response, it was certainly mainly insults you didn't want to hear. Their stances was answer enough. You had not trained since weeks now, and you were quite feeble, but you still managed to defeat them without too much hassle. Their lack of training, and their drunkenness helped you. You tossed them aside, wondering how they lock picked the door in their state, when you recognized one of them as the son of a smith. A smith that died during a search. It wasn’t only the shopkeepers who hated your guts. You barricaded your door and all the exits, and you analyzed.

No matter what Ezio said or did at Savonarola stake, guards were still considered as a threat. They worked heavily to make themselves trustworthy again, and had each others backs to avoid some incidents like the one you just suffered. But you were dismissed. You were no longer part of the group. You are on your own. You needed to act. Quickly.   
Pay, while not exceptional, was regular and quite good, and you had the habit of always keeping a substantial sum on the side, just in case. You took clothes and some trinkets you knew would miss if left behind, and freed the back window. You allowed yourself a last look to your former home, and left in the less frequented roads. You calculated where to pass to avoid the most of the people. Then… Then what ? You have lived in Firenze for so long, you almost forgot how to move freely from places to places. You would have to relearn. Unexpectedly, your walk took you to the house where you met La Volpe for the first time. His last words resonated in your mind. Did you want to speak again to him ? Yes, you decided. Would you find him in the house ? You doubted. He was busy, and paranoid. You weighted your next actions, and you tried to opened the door. Which was closed. You groaned. The house was nearly finished. Maybe its occupants were already installed inside. Or maybe La Volpe was in. You unceremoniously climbed to the freshly made second floor. 

“I didn’t believe you would come.”  
Yes, he was actually here ! You would have looked like a fool otherwise. Well, now he was here, you could try to ask some questions for once.  
“You knew, you finally answered. You knew all along how this would end.”  
He nodded.  
“So it was true ? What the Assassin said. They couldn’t be saved ?”  
“Some of them didn’t even want to be saved, they followed Savonarola willingly. For the others, no. The Apple is a dangerous artifact, hazardous to wield, impossible to master. Once can only hope to resist its effects. But once it corrupts you… There is no coming back.”  
“The Apple ?”  
“There is a war going on, my friend, for a very long time now. We did not start it, and I believe we won’t be the ones to finish it. The stakes are high, and this artifact is one of the central pieces. I you truly wish to know more, go to Monteriggioni. They cruelly need truthworthy citizens like you, your presence would be welcome here. Ask for Claudia, she will be expecting you.”  
While you digested the fact that La Volpe has actually complimented you, you missed his hands rummaging in one of his unnumbered pockets. You however did not miss the pleasant smell of apples.   
“I am afraid I lack your talent in the kitchen, but this will do I trust ?”  
Your stomach rumbled happily, and the Fox placed the small pie on a table, next to a bag. He disappeared again, leaving you with an impressive amount of food, and a lot of questions. There was only on way to have them answered. 

“Miss Auditore ?”  
“Yes ?”  
“Uh, it’s La Volpe who sent me ?”  
“Oh yes ! Please, call me Claudia. We have a shop that I believe will suit you perfectly, once my brother bring back enough money to restore it.”  
“Shop ? Miss Claudia, there must be a misunderstanding, I was not a shopkeeper, I was a guard.”  
“Really ? La Volpe nearly sang praises of your apple pies.”  
You gulped. That damn Fox !


	5. Even sweeter than your pie

Years passed. Your arrival was well received. You weren't the first, nor the last searching for a new start in Monteriggioni. The city was smaller than Firenze, and the inhabitants tighter. You managed to gain a solid clientele, and to broaden your menu thanks to some. Claudio and Mario, the leader of the city and Claudia uncle, never allowed you to become a guard, so you needed another way to make ends meet. You learned about the Assassins and the Templars after some months of listening the mercenaries and the growing numbers of novices. It was Ezio in person who explained you the role and the power (or what they could understand of it) of the Apple of Eden. Then you knew that the Captain was indeed gone that day with Savonarola, and you made your peace. 

You waited.

The life at Monteriggioni was good, better than Firenze, but you lacked something. It took you time, but you realized that you waited for someone. La Volpe. He rarely came, his presence was less necessary with the absence of the Templars. But he did came, as your missing apple pies and cleaned plates revealed. You left a small note, waiting impatiently the day he would read it.

And the day was today. Or, more exactly, tonight. That was not unexpected, as thieves usually did their sinister works in the shadows of the night (not that he needed it).   
Calloused hands roamed on your face, his familiar weight resting again on your waist.   
“I cannot be here regularly, he warned. And it will never be long.”

His hood was still up, but you could see his eyes. You gazed into them, wondering what secrets they may hide, what great treasure they saw. You could only see yourself in them now.

“Then we must be quick.”  
La Volpe face lit, and he slowly descended to your lips. You clasped your hand on his broad back, pushing him down the last inches, and you kissed passionately. You opened your legs, letting that wonderful man to sank between and cross them on his waist, one of your hand on his neck to deepen the kiss. He froze. You found both of your hands quickly pinned above your head. You understood. Decades of training and work in the underworld did not go in the span of one night. You relaxed, and smiled invitingly. Relief quickly washed away La Volpe shame, and calmly pressed both of your hands with one of his, the other slowly going under your night clothes. You felt it, climbing across your toned stomach, petting aimlessly your torso until it playfully pinched one of your nipple. You moaned, the heat of his experienced hand spreading everywhere at once, pooling down to your groin. He smiled wickedly and, without freeing your hands on second, pulled the clothes from your sweating body. Fully naked before the mighty thief, you could help but moan helplessly as he tasted you, his greedy mouth roaming where his hand couldn’t until he had you mapped in the single details. Satisfied to see you breathless, he rose from your trembling form and, eyes locked in yours, slowed disrobed. You hungrily watched more and more of his golden, scarred skin was revealed. You longed to touch it, taste it, learn its secrets. But not tonight.   
He released his glorious sex, he stood proudly on his muscled abs. He watched you lose your last scrapes of composure and showed three of his fingers, licking them sensually. Your were going insane, watching those long fingers slide in his smiling mouth, teasingly wetting them. He finally had mercy on you, and gripped your angry sex. You yelled. He was even hotter than you, and so slick He captured your lips, stealing your breaths and your pleas while he pushed you down that sweet, sweet release. One movement of those sly fingers and the heat exploded. White clouded your vision as you came, and he followed you soon after, his teeth deep in your shoulder. He licked your blood away and looked at you. 

“Even sweeter than your pie.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is plot bunny who followed me since the year before, but procrastination. Beware, this is my first time posting, and I am not and English speaker. Feel free to correct the mistakes in the comments !


End file.
